Save Me, A Zuko Story
by Meeoko
Summary: After helping the Avatar escape Zhao's prison, Zuko asks himself the big questions. But when madness begins to set in, does he really want to know the answers? Set in Series One. Short One-off story. No pairing. Inspired by Darren Styles song, 'Save Me'.


**Disclaimer : I do not own Avatar or any of the characters. If I did, Zuko would be mine by now.**

**Author's Note : This is just a little scene that has been playing around in my head since writing the chapter 'Zuko's Nightmare' from IFYH. It is set in Series One, where Zuko is still chasing the Avatar on his ship. Right after the episode 'The Blue Spirit'.**

**This one-off was inspired by the song 'Save Me' by Darren Styles – who I do not own either. Kind of like a song-fic, but not really.**

**This is the only story I've written so far that isn't Zutara. Still, I hope that it instills the same feelings in you that it does in me. Poor Zuko.**

* * *

There was complete and total silence. Not a soul on earth seemed to be moving. At least, not to him.

Everywhere he looked, all he could see was the cold metal hull of the ship. A single candle was burning, the source of its light reaching only the centre of the room, leaving the corners in eerie darkness. He felt completely and totally alone.

But that was how he liked it.

His Uncle had not seen to disturb him for almost three hours now, after he had screamed his voice raw, commanding him to leave him alone. He was intent on being alone, not to be disturbed by anyone, even his own family.

He could see the twin blades hung up against the wall. He had placed them there only a few hours ago, returned to their rightful place, until he required them again. The metal surface would glisten in the flickering light from the candle, lighting up all of the particles underneath the craftsmanship. For a few minutes, he watched the shadows flicker and dance over the cool metal surface. He wondered just how many battles they had fought and won. Just how many times those swords had helped him. And how many times they had saved his life.

Blowing a jet of flame from his mouth in frustration, he got up from his position on the floor. He had been meditating for long enough and his legs were beginning to stiffen up from the lack of blood flow. He rubbed at his forehead. He was almost certain that a large bruise was developing underneath the skin. He only hoped that his Uncle would see fit not to comment on it come evening. Those damn Yu Yan Archers had knocked him out cold.

He had returned to his ship early morning. He had told his Uncle that he was going to bed, but once he undressed and slid in between the sheets, he found that he couldn't make himself relax. The Fire Nation insignia hanging on his wall stared down at him, like an angry reminder. It disturbed him and soon, he had decided that sleep was not going to come to him. At least not for a while.

The Avatar's voice kept on ringing inside his head. Those same words, repeated over and over again.

"_Do you think we could have been friends?"_

Gritting his teeth, the Fire Nation Prince tried to block it out. But no matter how hard he tried, the words simply would not disappear.

At first, his intentions had been to rescue the Avatar from Zhao and reclaim the glory for himself. The Avatar was _his _prize! There was no way that Zhao would be taking away his one and only chance when he already had everything. No, he would not let it.

He knew that he would never be able to return to his homeland without the Avatar. He had been at sea for almost three years now searching endlessly for the only possible hope his father had left him.

"Friends." he repeated to himself.

He had never really known the meaning of the word. He had never had any friends. The only people who had ever come close was Azula and her friends. But they were not friends. How he had loathed them. At least, he loathed his sister. In his youth, he had found himself drawn to her friend, Mai. But that was just a childhood memory now. It was no longer important.

He had always loved and respected his cousin, Leu Ten. He had looked up to him like an older brother and had admired his bravery and swordsmanship. But he was dead now. Killed at the walls of Ba Sing Se. He would not be coming back again.

It seemed to him that everyone he cared about either died or hurt him somehow. Except his Uncle.

Sometimes, he would feel as if his Uncle looked down at him. He often saw him shaking his head whenever he worked himself into a particularly furious mood. Perhaps he looked down on him. Perhaps he was disappointed in him. Perhaps he pitied him.

He slammed the side of his fist into the metal hull out of frustration. There was nothing more he hated than being pitied. He had seen how people looked at him. Looked at his scar and whispered among themselves when they thought that he could no longer hear them. But he could.

If people looked at him with pity, he would make sure to soon turn that pity into fear. When people feared you, they obeyed you without question. And soon, the whispers would stop.

That was what he wanted. Peace. Quiet. Respect.

But not _pity_.

Many times throughout his three long years at sea, he had wondered exactly what he was doing and what it was exactly that he wanted.

_That's obvious. _He thought. _I want to capture the Avatar. I want to regain my honour. I want to regain my title and my throne. I want to go home and see my father smiling._

But recently, the more he had asked himself the very same question, the more he had found different answers. In the back of his mind, shoved into the darkest and deepest corner, he knew that his father would never smile. He would never congratulate him and welcome him with open arms. He would never _love h_im. And really, he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to return.

Back to his sister.  
Back to the father that had marked him. The father that had sent him spiralling into agony and torment, recovering in the hospital ward, only thirteen years old. Marked and broken. Disowned and looked on like a wounded animal!

_What do I want?_

He wasn't sure anymore. Questions were buzzing around in his head after the Avatar had saved him from being discovered and captured by Zhao. It was as if he couldn't think of anything else anymore.

_What do I want?_

He wanted something more. Something other than the same desperate struggle, renewed each and every day.

_What do I want?_

He rubbed at his temples, feeling the muscles in his face tighten. He wanted quiet. He wanted peace. He wanted to be left alone. At least, he thought he did.

_What do I want?_

He wanted to be able to walk through the streets without the whispers. Without the looks of horror. To be welcomed home joyously by someone that he cared about. Someone that cared about _him_. He wanted to be able to talk to people. To laugh and smile with them.

But he knew that that would never be possible. He wasn't like the rest of them. He never would be.

He clenched one hand into a fist. He no longer wanted to think anymore. He wanted to stop the Avatar's voice ringing in his head. He grit his teeth together, trying to block it out. The single candle pricked, the flame rising higher than it was supposed to. He did not see the light brighten.

_What do you want, Zuko? What do you want?_

He clasped at his head, sinking to the floor. His fingernails cut into his palm. He didn't care. The candle in the centre of the room began to burn fiercely, the flame growing higher and stronger. The light reached the dark and elusive corners of his room, banishing the shadows to where they had come. He didn't want to think anymore. Wanted to make the voices go away.

_What is it? What do you want? What do you want, Zuko?_

He could feel his good eye prick in anger and frustration. He closed them tightly against the noise. His fists began to tremble and he could feel something warm and slippery in the palm. The flame of the candle roared upwards to its climax, hurtling down the wick with the intense heat. He allowed a furious growl to part from his lips. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't like the answers he would find.  
But he knew the voices would not stop. They would never stop until he answered them.

_Tell us, Zuko. What do you want?_

As the candle reached the very bottom of the wick and thrust him into darkness, he opened his eyes, to let a single tear fall from his eye. The other would never shed tears again. A million thoughts and faces were flickering through his mind. His father. His sister. The mother he would never see again. The Avatar. And finally, he saw himself, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.

His body trembled with rage as he finally answered the question that had been plaguing him for so long, his voice a feeble whisper in the enveloping darkness of the ships hull.

"I want someone to _save me_."


End file.
